Dawn
by Dickensian812
Summary: Sydney Carton reflects on the day to come. Major spoilers for "A Tale of Two Cities."


Disclaimer: I do not own this character, or any of his loved ones. I just happen to be fathoms deep in love with him, that's all.

This story contains major ATOTC spoilers, so stop now if you don't want to see them!

I was inspired by this line about Charles Darnay: ". . . it flashed upon his mind, "this is the day of my death!'" Devious Dickens, he wasn't even going to really kill Darnay, but he made us concentrate on all the stuff that was going through his mind anyway. This sleight-of-hand means we don't know what went through Carton's mind on what was really the day of his death. This is my attempt to portray that, in my own small way.

Dawn

The stars were beginning to fade as the black sky lightened almost imperceptibly to gray. Not a breath of wind was stirring the cold air. The city was wrapped in a quiet so deep and profound that it was easy to imagine that no one was awake to see the first signs of morning.

Perhaps no one was, except the man who was sitting by the window in a small room in the old Tellson's Bank building. He had been sitting there for some time, watching the sky intently. He knew he would need to leave at dawn. He could not take the risk of seeing Mr. Lorry again; the older man was far too sharp. Last night, had his mind not been clouded by grief and worry, he might have guessed Carton's secret purpose.

The anxiety that this thought brought was only a slight one. After all the emotions he had passed through in the past forty-eight hours, Carton now was conscious only of a great calm. He sat still and straight but relaxed, resting an arm on the windowsill, and had anyone who knew him been there to see, that one would have been struck by the peace in his once melancholy eyes.

This was right. He felt it in the very marrow of his bones. It was more right than anything he had ever done in his life, and he breathed a silent prayer of gratitude that the chance of redemption had come.

The first faint streaks of red were beginning to reach above the dark silhouette of the roofs. Sydney Carton kept a careful eye on them, though they were not at the forefront of his mind. Once again, outlined clearly against the backdrop of the slowly brightening sky, he was seeing Lucie's pale, strained face at the trial, the devastation in her blue eyes even as she struggled to be brave for her husband. Once again he was feeling the soft wet cheek of the little girl he loved as his own child, pressed against his own.

Carton breathed in deeply and his hand on the sill clenched. There was pain in the thought of them, as there always was, but now the pain was mixed with a strange, fierce joy. He could help them—at last, he had something that he could give them. That he alone could give them. He found himself wondering if his whole life—the life he had considered a worthless waste—had been lived just for this moment.

And his greatest fear, the fear at which he had hinted to Mr. Lorry two nights ago, was gone. Sometime in the dim early hours, the truth had come to him. He was no longer afraid that he would leave no one to mourn for him; he never should have feared such a thing. After today, they would cherish him in their hearts always. He wanted no other memorial.

From the woman and the child, his thoughts drifted to Charles Darnay not far away. What was he doing right now? Watching the dawn from his prison cell? Counting the hours? Poor Darnay. Carton's face softened as he thought of his oddly similar—nemesis? Friend? He had never quite been able to decide. Over the years, he had reluctantly grown to like the man who had everything Carton wanted, even while envy never stopped gnawing at him. Today, the last of the old resentment had vanished forever. He realized he was glad for Darnay's sake, as well as for Lucie's and the little girl's, to do what he was going to do.

A ray of light fell on his upturned face, bringing him back to himself. The sun was lifting itself above the tops of the buildings now, bringing the crumbling old walls into sharp relief. The bulky form of the grindstone threw a sharp shadow across the courtyard.

Carton rose slowly, stretching his stiff legs and back, and leaned against the window to watch for a few more minutes, before going to the basin to splash a little water on his face. As he wiped it with the towel and absently straightened his coat and cravat, he glanced furtively toward the door. All was still quiet. Mr. Lorry would still be asleep, and unlikely to waken this early.

Into Carton's eyes came a tinge of regret. One of his few lingering wishes was that he could properly thank Mr. Lorry for listening so patiently and compassionately as Carton had stumbled through a confession that wasn't a confession, longing to share his heart fully with this kind, fatherly man. Stilted as it was, that conversation had meant more to him than Mr. Lorry could ever know.

He went softly to the door and stood still for a moment, listening carefully. His hand touched the door handle, but then he hesitated and looked back over his shoulder. The sun was higher and stronger now, forcing him to squint a little. As he stood there with the first light falling over him, his lips moved for a moment.

Then he turned and went out.


End file.
